Eastern Command's On Fire Again
by kalina16
Summary: A collections of oneshots, be they humorous or angsty, serious or straight-up crack, centering around the Flame Alchemist and his loyal subordinates (plus one shrimp and his brother).
1. Chapter 1

**While I promise I'm getting around to my next Marvel parody, I have been once again sucked into the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom, which has left me with hundreds of plot bunnies and zero motivation to write any of them out. So this is essentially my dumping ground for the ones that I do manage to scrape out, in the form of a bunch of completely pointless oneshots, ranging from complete crack to utter angst. **

**Enjoy!**

**And yes, this one is probably complete crack. I'm sorry.**

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><p><span><strong>War<strong>

It was another despicably dreary day at Eastern Command as resident genius-prodigy Edward Elric trudged down the bleak military-style halls. Any unfortunate passerby was quickly frightened away by the menacing air that hung around the blonde alchemist, his mood clearly as nasty as the weather outside.

Ed rather thought he was entitled to it, though. It was bad enough for yet another lead on the Philosopher's stone to turn up false, but having to report said failure to the Colonel Bastard and deal with the inevitable condescending asshole remarks that would follow…Edward glowered at the wall. One of these days, one of these days he was going to snap, he thought as he turned the corner. He was going to snap and punch that Colonel right in his smug, stupid, fa-

Ed ground to a sudden halt, staring at a half-open supply closet in disbelief. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the simple closet, carrying nothing but an extra supply of mops and cleaning supplies in it, but it was the figure hunched up on the topmost shelf that did Ed in.

"_Colonel?!"_ Ed choked out, torn between laughing sadistically or asking his superior just _what the hell_ he was doing hiding in a supply closet, knees drawn up to his chest like a five-year old.

"_Shut up!"_ Mustang hissed, glancing around fearfully. "_And get inside!"_

"HELL no, you creepy perv-"

"_I'm serious, Fullmetal_!" Mustang hissed urgently. Ed looked at his commanding officer, registering he very real terror in Mustang's dark eyes. Against all logic and his better judgment, Ed climbed into the closet, hunched up (but significantly less crushed than Mustang) quite uncomfortably against the older man. Mustang quickly yanked the door shut behind them, leaving them both in semi-darkness.

"Okay, Colonel Bastard," Ed said angrily. "Now that we're all cozy in the _supply closet_, what the actual _hell?!_"

"_Quiet!"_ Mustang hissed venomously, dark eyes darting around wildly as he listened for some unseen foe. Once he was apparently sure of the silence, he turned to Ed, nose scrunching up slightly as he realized how close they were. "Oh. Agh. Okay."

If they hadn't been squished side to side in a supply closet, Ed would have laughed at Mustang's uncharacteristic awkward fumbling.

"So," Mustang said, averting his eyes to stare at the door. "As of late, things here have been…um…a tad boring, without certain shrimp around to entertain,"

"_Who are you calling a shrimp, you stuck-up pretentious-"_

"Shhhhhhhh!" Mustang hissed, clapping a hand over Ed's mouth, effectively halting his rant but doing nothing to subdue the blood rushing to the younger alchemist's face. "Anyways, we have the extreme pleasure of hosting a military conference here this week," he continued hurriedly, "which of course means that, among other ranking officers, Lieutenant Armstrong and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes are in town."

"Yeah yeah, and?" Ed said, not seeing the point in this information.

"Don't interrupt your superiors, Fullmetal."

Ed flushed angrily, feeling the need to point out that most superiors worth not interrupting were normally sane enough not to drag their subordinates into supply closets. Mustang cut him off as he continued.

"Unfortunately, the wondrous excitement military conferences provide proved not nearly enough to satisfy anyone, and, in combination with the lovely weather we've been having, prompted certain people to engage in decidedly…immature…petty acts performed against one another."

"You mean everyone got bored and started a prank war," Ed said, grinning.

"No! Yes…no….yes," Mustang said, uncharacteristic red coloring his cheeks. "Anyways, this morning my team and I, along with Hughes, planned to avenge ourselves against Armstrong's unit by rigging a rather…against-regulations explosive in Armstrong's visitor's locker. Harmless, mind you, but considerably nasty."

"So you hit Armstrong with a smoke bomb, or a stink bomb, or whatever, big deal! Armstrong's a softie, you're both in this prank war, there's no reason to hide in the closet, moron!"

Mustang paled, swallowing nervously. "You see, that would have been the case, had we rigged it to the right locker."

"Ohhhhhh," Ed said, feeling the beginnings of sympathy for the team. "Who'd you get"

"Armstrong."

"Wait-what?"

"The wrong one."

"The wrong-oh. Oh. _Ohhhhhhh._"

Ed had heard stories of the legendary Armstrong sister, and though he had never met her in person, he had little desire to. Ice queens who could rip you apart at a moment's notice didn't really fall in his want-to-meet list. And Mustang's team had set off a smoke bomb in her locker. Suddenly the supply closet didn't seem near hidden enough.

"It hit her right in the face," Mustang said weakly, all color gone from his face.

"You're dead," Ed said flatly. "You are so unbelievably, completely, irrevocably dead, not even a philosophers' stone would bring you back-"

"I know!" Mustang hissed. "Which is why I plan to stay here until the apocalypse-"

He cut off abruptly as footsteps sounded outside the door, throwing an arm around Ed and pulling them both against the wall. Aware of the terror haunting the halls of Eastern Command, Ed didn't even think to argue.

"_Roy!"_ a hushed whisper came from the hall. "_Hey, Roy, where are you?"_

"Hughes," Mustang muttered, leaning forward. Ed yanked him back quickly.

"Wait!"

"Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes," came a voice so cold Ed could feel the hallway icing over.

"Oh shi-" Hughes squeaked out before his expletive cut off to terrified screaming.

"THINK OF THIS THE NEXT TIME YOU DECIDE TO PULL SUCH CHILDISH PRANKS, YOU SHIFTLESS LAZY FOOL!" General Armstrong roared over the sounds of her thoroughly thrashing the screaming Hughes.

It was a testament to how terrified both alchemists were that they both clutched each other as they shook in fear.

"I'll always remember you, Hughes," Mustang whispered through his quakes of fear.

"Shut up! Do you want to die?!" Ed hissed at him.

The screaming abruptly cut off and they both froze. Ed held his breath as Mustang grew steadily paler, his grip on Ed's arm slowly growing more and more painful by the second. Which he could say nothing to, seeing as he was gripping Mustang equally tight with his automail arm.

Footsteps clacked louder and louder as they drew close to the supply closet, Hughes moaning in the background. Ed figured that if his lungs didn't burst any second now Mustang was going to explode with anxiety and they would both be brutally murdered by the oldest daughter of the renowned Armstrong family, with a killing technique likely passed down for generations. Ed hysterically pictured his epitaph. "Here lies the Fullmetal Alchemist, brutally murdered after being dragged into a prank war by his superior."

Just as he was sure his lungs were going to burst, the footsteps turned away, fading down the hall.

"Oh, thank GOD!" Ed practically shrieked in relief as the footsteps disappeared.

"Never again," Mustang said weakly as he deflated against the wall. "Never, ever, ever again will I be stupid enough to enter a prank war."

Ed giggled hysterically, collapsing against Mustang's side. So great was the relief of the two that neither even thought to mention it.

"I thought we were dead for sure."

"You and me both," Mustang echoed. "Though now is probably the moment to make a break for it-'

"THERE YOU ARE, MUSTANG YOU RAT!" Ed and Mustang screamed as the door was ripped away to reveal a very, very, angry Olivier Armstrong. "AND YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE SUBORDINATE TOO!"

"It's been an honor serving with you, Fullmetal," Mustang croaked out.

"Likewise, Colonel," Ed squeaked.

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><p>Several floors away, Riza Hawkeye was startled out of her paperwork by agonized screaming. She sighed, shaking her head as she sifted through the pile of paperwork. She had warned him. Military pranks wars never ended well.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Due to a surplus of plot bunnies, look how fast I got another up! Yay! And yes, this is another complete crack oneshot. A slightly shippy one. I'm actually not sorry.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><span><strong>Dance<strong>

"This is a joke," Roy Mustang said flatly. "This is a huge joke and you are just waiting for me to fall for it so you can laugh at me."

Instead of showing any signs of being caught, or even flying into a self-defensive rage (as Roy seriously would have preferred), Edward Elric only grit his teeth and turned a most spectacular shade of scarlet, muttering angrily under his breath and gripping the sofa in Mustang's office hard enough to warrant tearing.

"I'm not-_grrrr_-joking you bastard."

"You're serious," Roy said in disbelief. "You're actually serious." He turned to Alphonse, hoping the younger, saner Elric would magically put the world back on its axis. "He's serious?"

"Yes, sir," Alphonse replied cheerfully. Roy was a hundred percent sure that if the boy had his body back right now there would be a demonic smirk painting its features.

Planting his palms on his desk he leaned back in his chair, rallying his thoughts. Normally, this would simply be too good, _too good_ not to tease the life out of his subordinate. But this case was simply too astounding.

"You want me to teach you…how to _dance_?"

Ed blushed deeper, if it were even possible, his face narrowing into a scowl.

"Yes, you damn bast-"

"Brother!"

"-you idiot."

Alphonse sighed. Roy didn't even register the insult, so completely baffled by the situation he was.

"And _why_, in the name of all that is good on this earth, would you want me to teach you _that?!_"

Ed shifted awkwardly, as if to bury himself in the sofa. "Well…you know that stupid military ball they have coming up…"

Yes, Roy knew about the military ball. That stupid military ball indeed. His womanizing reputation was throwing a real wrench in his plans to avoid any and all females hoping for a ball invitation, save one blonde-haired sniper who would either grudgingly accept if he invited her or shoot him point blank.

"Well Win-this girl is in town, so…so…."Ed took a deep breath, then burst out "_IwasgoingtoaskherandIdon'tknowhowtodancepleasehelp."_

Roy stared.

Ed continued his attempts to become one with the sofa.

Alphonse continued his invisible smirk.

Roy tried. He really, really tried, with all the effort he had. But the full gravity of the situation came in and smacked him in the face and he just couldn't help it.

"HA!" he exploded with laughter. "AHAHAHAHAHA-"

"_Shut UP!_" Roy's laughter quickly warped into a shriek as Ed sprang over the desk, tackling them both to the ground.

"Brother!" Alphonse cried as he ran over, desperately trying to pull the two alchemists apart. He grabbed Ed and lifted him, leaving him dangling in the air, swinging wildly as he attempted to punch Roy, who was still lying on the floor, desperately stifling his laughter.

"-SAY ANYTHING ELSE AND I'LL KNOCK YOUR PATHETIC FACE SO HARD YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO SEE STRAIGHT FOR A MONTH YOU UGLY, MORONIC-"

"Okay, I'll teach you."

"-WOMANIZING BAST-_hehhhhh?_"

"I said, yes, Fullmetal, I will teach you how to dance." Roy repeated as he stood, brushing his uniform.

He nearly fell apart again at the look on Ed's face.

"You-what-wait-_aghh?_"

"Well, we certainly can't have you humiliating Miss Rockbell at the ball, can we?"

"Really? Um, okay…" Ed trailed off, looking dazed. Roy's words registered and his face turned red again. "WAIT, WHO THE HELL TOLD YOU I WAS ASKING WINRY?!"

* * *

><p>Riza Hawkeye arrived back at Eastern Command from her lunch break in surprisingly good spirits, a direct contrast to the men following her up the stairs.<p>

"We could've made it back on time, Hawkeye," Breda muttered.

"Yeah, you didn't have to go pulling a gun out on us!" Havoc exclaimed.

"May I remind you that the last fifty times you tried to trip Major Farthing into the food counter it only ended in disastrous failure and several considerably unhappy officials?" Riza clipped out as they made their way to the office.

"But he's a jerk!" Havoc defended.

"And Colonel Mustang gave us permission!" Fuery added.

"Oh he did, did he?" Riza asked, eyebrows narrowing dangerously.

"Um…maybe?" Fuery backtracked, suddenly afraid for his superior's life.

"Well he should know better," Riza sighed as she opened the door to the office. "It's about time he started taking things seriousl-" she frowned. "Wait. Is that…"

"Music?" Falman finished.

The group stared at their superior's closed door, the sounds of a traditional waltz wafting past. And scattered among the gentle tempo…

"OUCH! Fullmetal, you're supposed to be leading me, not trampling my feet!"

"Well _I'm sorry_, Colonel Bastard, it would be easier if you weren't so damn stiff!"

"I'm not stiff! You're the one imitating a plank of wood!"

"Well maybe if you didn't suck so much playing the woman-"

"I'm sorry, Fullmetal, I simply must not have had as much practice as you-"

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!"

Riza cracked open the door, the rest of the team crowding behind her. What she saw made her seriously wonder if she had failed to get up this morning and was still in bed dreaming.

"What the heck?" Havoc muttered, cigarette falling from his mouth.

Inside the Colonel's office, both sofas had been pushed away to create an open space, in which, wonder of wonders, the brilliantly renowned Flame Alchemist and Fullmetal Alchemist were…dancing?

"Wow, they kinda suck," Breda muttered, snorting as Roy's face tightened in pain as Ed stamped down on his foot with unnecessary force.

"I know, right?" the team jumped as Alphonse laughed softly from his position against the wall next to the door.

"How long have they been at this?" Riza asked the younger Elric, still not entirely believing what she was seeing.

"About half an hour now. I think they've forgotten that the point of the dance isn't to kill each other, though," Alphonse said, smile evident in his voice.

"Oh, this is too good," Havoc said as he smirked. "Fuery, where's the camera?"

"Already on it," the young sergeant grinned as he aimed the camera at the dancing pair. Breda and Falman tried to strangle their snickers as Riza rolled her eyes.

Immature as it was, though…she gazed at the two ridiculous alchemists, awkwardly stepping around the room, occasionally yelling out insults at each other. Despite the normal hostility, it was the most relaxed she'd seen the two in months. In fact, with Roy desperately trying to teach Ed some semblance of dancing, they looked a bit like family. A very messed-up, profane family, but a family nonetheless. She felt her own mouth turn up in a smile as she watched Roy hide another grin as Ed turned scarlet. _Her_ messed-up family.

And then the flash of the camera went off.

The two dancers froze, staring at each other in horror. Roy's expression tightened as he slowly turned towards the door.

"Fuery…" he growled out, voice dangerously low.

"Oh, um, hello, Colonel!" Fuery squeaked, shoving the camera behind his back.

Ed's face darkened as a menacing expression took over.

Roy squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a minute, then opened them, facing his men wearily.

"If you would all just-"

"Oh no, boss, continue," Havoc smirked, apparently suddenly having developed a suicidal impulse. "You guys were doing great. Beautiful impressions of dancing elephants in love."

Ed made a strangled sound. Roy's hands slid into his pockets. Riza and Alphonse took a long step back.

"Colonel…" Ed growled, glaring daggers at the four men standing in the doorway.

"Attack on three?" Roy answered, pulling on his gloves.

"Hell yeah," Ed grinned evilly.

The four men swallowed.

Three seconds later, screaming rang down the halls of Eastern Command as Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Falman sprinted away from the wall of flames and jagged spikes that came flying after them.

"IT'S AGAINST REGULATIONS TO ACTUALLY KILL US YOU KNOW!" Havoc shrieked at the two incensed alchemists.

Back in the office, Riza rolled her eyes, wearily sinking into the sofa.

"Idiots," she muttered.

"Definitely," Alphonse agreed, joining her with a clank. "Not to mention I've already got quality evidence." The boy waved a camera of his own cheerfully. "Want to go get these developed?"

Remembering the way Ed and Roy looked as they stepped around each other clumsily, Riza grinned.

"Sure, Alphonse."


	3. Chapter 3

**There is no excuse for this other than I watched How To Train Your Dragon 2 for the second time last night and was reminded how much of an OTP song Stoick and Valka's song is. Man, I love that movie**

**Anyways, after listening to it five times straight I couldn't help but picture Royai singing it, and then this just kind of took a life of its own. I swear, this is the last oneshot about dancing. Please do not kill me for how incredibly ridiculous these oneshots are slowly becoming.**

**You should also know that I am a firm believer that Roy and Riza are deeply in love throughout the series and actually really suck at hiding it. So yes. Much Royai abounds. **

**I don't own the lyrics to the song, and I certainly don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, unfortunately. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p><span><strong>Flying<strong>

Riza Hawkeye considers herself a very level-headed, composed individual. In all her years of trying military service, not to mention the equally trying task of keeping Ro-Colonel Mustang in line, she's relatively proud of the way she's handled herself. Not that she's perfect, of course, but she's yet to have burst into hysterical tears, degraded into a mindless drone after rejection, incinerated her paperwork, or sent a man to the hospital for an ill-timed short joke. So yes, in comparison to her fellow officers, Riza considers herself a quiet, composed, very much sane individual.

However, she is entitled to the average bad day every once in a while, thank you very much.

She'd not sure what it was that set her so off-kilter. But somewhere between the failure of her alarm clock, the breakdown of her car, the catty remarks of other female officers and the enormous mountain of paperwork sitting on her desk, something in her usually composed mask cracked and left her with an infuriating burning in her eyes.

"Lieutenant?" Roy_-__mmph__- _Colonel Mustang's concerned query draws her out of her self-pitying reverie.

"Yes, sir?" she replies, cheeks flushing at her lapse of attention. _Damn this day…_

"I asked if you were alright, Lieutenant," he replies, dark eyes narrowing in concern. She grits her teeth.

"Perfectly fine, sir, thank you very much." And she is, she really is, and she really needs to take advantage of this lunch break and focus on paperwork, so if he would just_shut up_ already…

"Ah. Good then." Ro-Colonel-oh, _screw it__-_Roy leans back in his chair, staring out the window thoughtfully. "You know I was thinking…"

"Unusual activity for you to be pursuing, sir." The taunting remark is out of her lips before she can stop it, and frankly, she cannot find the will to care.

"Oh haha, very funny," Roy deadpans. "As I was saying, I was thinking back to my time as your father's apprentice today."

His time as her father's apprentice. Those few bright years in which she had a best friend, someone to talk to that actually listened. Those few years someone forced their way through the tightly shut doors of her heart.

Those few years that seemed too far away these days.

"Yes, sir?" she replied softly.

"And I ended up with the most annoying song stuck in my head. You remember that one my sister taught us that one Christmas? The one we tried to dance to and I accidently swung you into a wall?"

Riza snorts, the burst of amusement masking the deeper undercurrent of feeling at the mention. Oh yes, she remembers that song. She also remembers what it meant to them. Far too well…

Roy rolls his eyes. "Yes, I was hopeless then, wasn't I. How'd it go again?" he frowns. "Oh yes!"

_"I'll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne'er a fear of drowning,"_

Roy's voice skirts lightly over the first few notes and Riza nearly forgets how to breath. Why is he…is he actually singing this now…_  
><em>_"And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me…"_

Curse him, she thinks as she clutches her paperwork tightly, as if it will provide some sort of anchor. She can't do this right now. Not here.

_"No scorching sun, nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey, if you will promise me your heart," _Roy's voice falters slightly, the almost-frightened hesitance Riza finds so endearing coloring his voice. _"And love…"_

His voice trails off, because this is where she is supposed to pick up, to follow the song, but she can't, not now, not in the heart of the very entity that keeps them apart. She will laugh gently, tell him she forgets the words, and they will be all the safer…

Except its Roy, and he's singing to her, and honestly, when has she not been a complete sucker for this song.

_"…and love me for eternity…"_ Her voice is a bit shaky, but the words are remembered, and the look on Roy's face is enough to spur her through the next lines.  
><em>"My dearest one my darling dear, your mighty words astound me."<em>

And somehow he's out of the chair and the paperwork is fluttering to the floor, their hands both raised to meet each other in the old but familiar moves of the dance._  
><em>_"But I've no need of mighty deeds, when I feel your arms around me."_

And then his arms are around her, and her feet are moving, and _oh__, _she is doomed.

Roy is laughing though, and he sings the next lines with a smirk as he twirls her around. _"But I would bring you rings of gold, I'd even sing you poetry,"_ She snorts at that line, and Roy rolls his eyes. _"And I would keep you from all harm, if you would stay beside me!"_

Her turn comes again, and this time the lyrics come clear and confident. _"I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry," __Not that he could ever write any__. "I only want your hand to hold-"_

Roy bursts in, _"-I only want you near me-"_

Their voices join together and then they're really dancing and Riza hopes on everything that no one is in the hall right now.

_"-to love to kiss to sweetly hold-"_

They spin faster and faster round each other, voices clashing madly against each other, hers a laughing gasp of words and Roy's a deep, joy-filled sound that fills her with such happiness she is nearly swept off her feet.

It strikes her how ridiculous they must look; two uniformed figures twirling madly around the office, blue capes snapping about as they pull each other around like children, gasping out half-butchered lyrics between their bursts of laughter.

She doesn't care. She doesn't care, she doesn't care, she doesn't care how unprofessional they are acting, how blatantly they're ignoring the fraternization laws, how completely immature and stupid they must look because for these few hectic seconds she's free, she's flying, unhinged with only Roy to hold onto and _Roy_- Roy is ridiculous, his black hair bouncing in his eyes, his face split into this ridiculous grin that makes him look years longer as he half shouts "_-for the dancing and the dreaming-"_ and in that moment it hits her hard just how much she loves him, and she'll follow him anywhere just to feel this _happy._

_"-through all life's sorrows and delights, I'll keep your laugh inside me-"_

They're moving faster and faster, voices growing louder and louder and there is nothing but the pounding of her blood and Roy's smile.

"-_I'll swim and sail the savage seas, with ne'er fear of drowning, and gladly ride the waves of life if you will marry ME!"_

With the last word she actually is swept off her feet, spun into the air by Roy as they both shriek with laughter. She collapses into his arms and he pulls her in tightly, his heart beating wildly beneath her cheek as his chest shakes with laughter.

She shuts her eyes and laughs herself-she feels lighter than air.

"Better?" Roy asks lightly as their laughter subsides and they pull apart, both of them breathing heavily.

"Idiot," she says, elbowing him. But the smile is still on her lips.

"Better."


	4. Chapter 4

**Another crack chapter! This one kinda defies the time period, whoops... Consider it…slightly au? Or just pretend nice cars with radios and the song **_**Don't Stop Believin' **_**existed at that time.**

**I own neither Fullmetal Alchemist nor Journey's song! Enjoy!**

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><p><span><strong>Mind the Road<strong>

On Alphonse's list of Things He Wants To Do In Life, one may find things such as traveling to other countries, eating apple pie, getting his brother and Winry to acknowledge their feelings, and owning an army of cats. And getting his body back. That's a bit higher on the list.

However, of the many things that resided on this list, he's pretty sure a twelve plus hour car ride with his brother and Colonel Mustang never made the cut.

"Go _faster_, you decrepit old man, you drive like my grandma-"

"_Excuse me_ for trying not to get us arrested. And last I checked, you didn't even _have_ a grandma-"

"Well _yeah,_ but if I did she'd still drive faster than you, and with two broken legs too-"

"Oh shut up, you tiny little shrimp-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A SHRIMP YOU UGLY OLD GRANMDA BASTARD-"

Al sighed. It was only one hour into the trip and the two were already at each other's throats. It would be a miracle if they all made it back to Eastern Command alive.

According to plan, the three should have actually been on a priority military train ride, zipping back to Eastern Command in peace. Colonel Mustang had been sent on a simple maintenance mission in a city about half a day's train ride away, and, due to the rumors circulating that suggested the city's shadier residents were dealing in information pertaining to the philosopher's stone, brought the two brothers along. A decision, Al suspected, that he was beginning to regret, if not at Ed's destruction of several buildings then at least on the drive home.

Which wouldn't even be necessary right now if the city had kept to their railroad regulations. Unfortunately, the residents of the city had neglected to do so, and one corroded set of broken rails, fit from Ed, and terrified car rental salesman later, the three were driving back to headquarters as fast as the car could go.

Which was not, apparently, fast enough for Ed.

Al sighed again as his brother and Colonel Mustang continued arguing, the car occasionally swerving wildly as Ed scored a particularly grating hit and the colonel turned to retaliate. He took a moment to thank whatever gods had been kind enough to leave him in the back seat and not sandwiched between the two yelling alchemists.

"You SUCK! You are literally the WORST excuse for a human being to ever walk the plant" Ed shrieked, two veins away from blowing his head off.

"Well you're more than welcome to get out and WALK, you over-reactive seafood dish!"

Al just shook his head. It was going to be a long ride back.

* * *

><p><em>1300<em> _hours_

"I'm bored."

"Well that's hardly my problem is it, Fullmetal."

"Umm actually it is, seeing as you're stuck in the car with me."

"Negative. You are the only one experiencing what must be a mind-crushing absence of the usual adrenaline you pursue."

"Hey! Just because I don't laze around on my butt all day behind a desk doesn't mean I'm an adrenaline addict."

"I do not _laze around_, I spend hours filling out paperwork for buildings _you_ blew up. And yes, it does."

"Like you actually fill that crap out! Everyone knows Lieutenant Hawkeye does it all for you-"

"She does _not-_"

"Um, can we please just calm down-"

"Yes she does, and it doesn't matter anyways, because I'm still BORED."

"No one cares, Shrimp."

"NINE HUNDRED BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL, NINE HUNDRED BOTTLES OF BEER, TAKE ONE DOWN, PASS IT AROUND, NINE HUNDRED-"

"_Are you serious."_

"Brother, please-"

"EIGHT HUNDRED NINETY-NINE BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL, EIGHT HUNDRED NINETY-NINE BOTTLES OF BEER-"

"_FULLMETAL!"_

_1500 hours_

"I spy…something short."

"For the _last _time, that stopped being funny _hours _ago-"

"Colonel, really."

"I'm sorry, Alphonse, it's just too fun."

"Whatever, this game's boring anyways."

"Fine then, you come up with a new one. You're the bored one."

"How about 'All the Reasons Colonel Mustang is a Bastard'-"

"_Brother."_

"Tch. Why would I know any good games? Al, you come up with one."

"Ummm…okay…how about, 'Who Has Any Food that May or May Not be for a Cat'?"

"Wait, what-"

"AL!"

_1700 hours_

"Pleaseeeeeee Colonellllllll?"

"For the last time, Fullmetal, we are not stopping at some garbage food place for dinner-"

"It's not garbage! It's amazing, flavorful goodness!"

"Fried up in a vat of grease."

"Duh. What'd you think made it so good?"

"Well I'd rather not go into cardiac arrest tonight, thank you very much."

"Well you're about due for a heart attack anyways, old man-"

"_Edward."_

"Brother, _please._"

_1900 hours_

"Are you kidding me?! A blind cripple drives better than you, you idiot piece of shi-"

"Woah there, Colonel, cool it!"

"_Did you see how he cut me off-"_

"Yeah, but you need to keep your eyes on the-ROAD! ROAD! YOU'RE GOING OFF THE ROAD!"

"Oh, _damn_-"

"_COLONELLLLLL!"_

_2100 hours_

"Are we there yet?"

"That had better be a joke."

_2300 hours_

"_Ugghhh._ I think I'm gonna puke."

"I told you not to read in the car."

"How do you keep forgetting that happens to you, brother?"

"I couldn't take the boredom. _Bleh."_

"Bother, put that book down now and turn off the flash light!"

"Fullmetal, you're cleaning it up if you throw up in the car-"

"_Oh-_ugh-*_cough *cough*"_

"_Brother!"_

"FULLMETAL!"

"Hehe. Kidding."

_0100 hours_

"Oh. My gosh. I think I may need to alchemize my eyes open."

"Soooooo tiredddddd…"

"Please don't fall asleep at the wheel, Colonel."

"Mmmmph. Yeah, please don't kill us."

"Maybe you can turn on some music?"

"Fine, it's worth a try."

"Here, I got it-aw, not _soft jazz_-"

"That's it, we're all getting coffee."

_0200 hours_

"JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRLLLLL-"

"LIVIN' IN A LONELYYYYYY WORLLLLLLDDD-"

"SHE TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOIN' ANNNNNNNYWHEREEEEEEE-"

"WHY AREN'T WE ON THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN."

_0400 hours_

"Y'know, the military is _dumb._"

"_So _dumb."

"Yeah, they have really stupid uniforms…"

"And stupid regulations…"

"And stupid mission parameters…."

"And stupid library hours…"

"And stupid fraternization laws…"

"Yeah. We should, like, blow it up."

"Yeah. With fire."

"Good plan. Hehe."

"Hehehe."

"Hehehehehe."

"Hehehehehehehehe!"

"HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!"

"Oh look, it's Eastern Command!"

"OH THANK GOD."

"YES! YES! YESSSSSSSSSS!"

* * *

><p>And so, whether or not a fifteen hour car ride with his brother and Colonel Mustang was on his list or not, Al found himself finishing up one at four AM outside of the Eastern Command barracks, as he carried Ed piggy-back style and Lieutenant Hawkeye flashed him a smile of thanks and a wave, making her way towards her own car with Colonel Mustang's arm draped around her shoulder, the colonel muttering snippets of plans to set Central Command on fire.<p>

Al smiled-metaphorically-to himself as he turned to make his way to the barracks, Ed snoring behind him. Then frowned. It was going to be a good week or two before he got that dang song out of his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Not quite as pleased with this one, but at least it's slightly less of a crack shot than the others. Well…if you don't think too hard about what they're doing, it isn't. :P**

**And thanks to everyone who's either left a review or followed/favorite this story, you guys are fantastic!**

**Once again, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. **** :( Enjoy!**

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><p><span><strong>Recipe<strong>

"Oh no. Oh no no no no no _no_-shit, I messed up, _no!_" the desperate cry came from the short blonde alchemist. "No- I had everything right-no, WHY?!"

"Edward-"

"I did everything right, I did, I _had _to have- no, _no,_ WHYYYYYYY?!"

"For heaven's sakes, Fullmetal, it's just an egg."

"An egg that was destined to be part of a delicious cookie that I've _ruined!_" Ed moaned in despair, thunking his head on the countertop.

"Oh, brother," Alphonse sighed.

"We have plenty more in the refrigerator, Edward," Hawkeye said as she carefully scooped up the shattered, gooey remains of the egg, a faint expression of revulsion on her face as she dumped them in the trash. "Go get another."

"Just try not to smash the brains out of this one, Chief," Havoc said, smirking from where he was carefully measuring out the flour.

Ed glared at him. "Hey! It's hard to know whether I'm tapping it too hard or not with automail!"

"Except that wasn't tapping, it was a pulverizing blow," Mustang muttered, sorting through measuring cups.

"Oh, shut up, bastard," Ed sulked.

"Go get another egg, Edward," Hawkeye sighed as she returned to inspecting the cookbook.

"And get some milk while you're at it!" Breda called after Ed's retreating figure, and sly grin on his face.

"EW! _Gross!" _Ed shrieked. "Why would you ruin perfectly good cookie dough by adding _that_ filth?!"

"The recipe doesn't call for milk…" Fuery said uncertainly.

"Aw, c'mon, Fuery."

"DANGIT YOU JERKS!" the rest of Mustang's unit (minus Hawkeye) just laughed at the alchemist's incensed ranting.

"So, not that this isn't fun or anything…" Falman said uncertainly as the laughter died down.

"But why, exactly, are we baking cookies at eleven o'clock at night?" Havoc added.

"At my house, no less," Hawkeye muttered.

"Yeah, seriously," Ed chimed in.

"Hughes," Mustang said flatly, dumping vanilla in the dough with unnecessary vengeance. "Is pulling the guilt trip of all guilt trips on us."

"Pardon me?" Alphonse asked as the rest of the group stared at him in confusion.

"Tomorrow is Elysia's birthday," Roy sighed. "And Hughes mentioned it would be _so tragically sad_ if her favorite military dogs didn't show up to it."

"Which explains why we're all heading to Central tomorrow morning," Fuery said.

"But not about the cookies," Havoc finished.

"Chocolate chip cookies are Elysia's favorite," Mustang muttered, his face turning an unusual shade of red. "And we need to have _some_ sort of present."

"Awwwwwww," Breda smirked.

"Colonel Bastard wants to spoil his darling little Elysia," Ed snickered.

"Seeing as he doesn't have a daughter of his own to love," Havoc added, grinning.

"OH MY GOSH WILL YOU SHUT UP YOU'RE READING WAY TOO INTO THIS!" Mustang yelled, throwing flour at them.

The three gasped as the powdery white substance coated their hair, giving them the appearance that they'd all aged thirty years.

"Oh, if _that's_ how it's gonna be…"

"NO FOOD FIGHTS IN MY KITCHEN!"

At Hawkeye's cry and flash of gun everyone quickly returned to work, eyeing the woman fearfully.

It was then, unfortunately, that the gross incompetence of military men's' cooking abilities was put to light.

"Salt, two tsp's…" Havoc frowned. "Is it teaspoons or tablespoons that's the little't'?"

"Beats me," Ed muttered. "Wish they could just write it out in alchemical measurements, it'd be much simpler..."

"You are _not_ alchemizing the cookies," Alphonse declared.

"Well it _would _speed up the process," Fuery suggested.

"And I can take care of the actual baking part," Mustang added.

"_Absolutely_ not." Hawkeye said, smacking Mustang's hand away from the dough. He pouted. "Now you can either get serious about this, or you can go sit in the living room and play cards or something. That's and order."

Needless to say, more than half the people in the kitchen ended up in the living room, sulkily playing poker.

* * *

><p>All in all, they did fairly well, all things considered, Roy thought as he watched his slightly flour-covered men playing poker at Hawkeye's coffee table, the woman herself washing dishes with Alphonse on the other side of the kitchen.<p>

"Want some help?" he offered his lieutenant, making his way towards her. She smiled softly.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think you have a subordinate's well-being to check on," she said, nodding towards the other side of the kitchen.

Roy smirked in amusement as he caught sight of Ed, fiercely staring at the cookies rising in the oven like a mother hen over her baby chicks.

"Give me a minute," he said to her as he made his way over to Ed.

"You know, the cookies aren't going to burst into flames if you take your eyes off them for a minute," he said, humor coloring his tone.

"Shut up, bastard," Ed muttered. "Just making sure nothing's going wrong."

Roy rolled his eyes. "We measured the ingredients to perfection, Fullmetal, they're fine."

"Yeah, well `sometimes you get the ingredients right and it still goes wrong," Ed said hotly, glaring at the oven.

Roy felt the smirk slide off his face. Ingredients…that would strike a nerve. It could be disconcerting, he thought, how similar baking pastries and performing transmutations were. He sighed wearily, running a hand through his hair, then squatted down beside Ed.

"True," he said as he watched to glistening cookies rising slowly, aware of the pair of golden eyes watching him carefully. "Sometimes our best efforts do go rather wrong." Ed snorted, turning his glare back to the oven.

"But," Roy said, choosing his words carefully. "What matters is that it _is_ our best effort, to do something unusually selfless and generous for a little girl, who is, truth be told, more than likely to be happier to just have _you_ there for her, offering _your_ best, than receive perfectly crafted cookies from a gourmet chef she doesn't know at all."

Ed stared at the rising cookies, silent. Roy watched the cookies as well, keeping his own quiet as the murmur of the laughing voices of their companions echoed from the living room, Hawkeye and Alphonse having finished the dishes and joined them.

"You," Ed finally said, his voice quiet. "Sound like a sappy mom."

Roy snorted. "Yes, well, I pride myself in all sorts of wisdom."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He stood abruptly, stretching his automail arm. "Let's go whip everyone's asses at poker." He gave the cookies one last glance. "Yeah, the cookie should be fine."

"That they will," Roy said with a small smile as he followed Ed out of the kitchen. It wasn't often he found use for the long-dead words of his mother, but every time he did they never quite failed him.

Hughes would get a kick out of this, that's for sure, he thought as he watched his subordinates heatedly playing each other in poker. If not at their presence at all, then at least at the fact that they made _cookies_.

"You in, Colonel?" Breda asked, nodding towards an open spot at the low coffee table.

"Why not," Roy said, sliding into the group. "You look like you need someone to clean you all out anyways."

"In your dreams, loser!" Ed challenged as he shuffled the cards, handing them to Falman.

Roy just laughed as Falman dealt the cards, the men either cheering in joy or moaning in despair as the game went on, Hawkeye and Alphonse watching half-amused, half-exasperated from the sofa.

"Take that, losers!" crowed Havoc as he slapped down his particularly good hand. "Pay up!"

"_Damn,_" muttered the rest of the table in synchronization as they cast aside their own hands.

"So much for alchemist's luck," Ed muttered.

"A load of junk, that's what it-huh, what's that smell?" Roy said, sniffing the air, frowning.

"I believe that would be the cookies sir," Hawkeye said flatly. Her expression morphed into one of horror. "I actually think they're burning."

"Aw, shit-" Roy cursed as he jumped up, everyone else following suit as he sprinted to the kitchen.

"I TOLD YOU SO!" Ed shrieked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sooooo eheheh... I'm back? ACK I've figured out what happens when you have too many fandoms- you start about sixty oneshots for each and never finish anything. But the holidays (which were way too busy to be holidays) are over and school's actually becoming manageable so I'm hopefully going to get a balanced writing schedule going again - I have other fics I'm working on (which I'm updating soon I swear) so this one will probably still be rather slow on updating but the point is that it will actually be updating! Yay! (I'm so sorry I'll get things up faster I promise).**

**Also, this one took an angsty turn, and has a tiny bit of headcannoning thrown in there. And it actually has something to do with the title.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>One and the Same<strong>

Given the overall circumstances, you really would have thought someone would have installed a better fire prevention system in Eastern Command. Sprinklers, maybe? Build a closer fire station? Or at least have less flammable items in the buildings.

At least it's not his fault this time, Roy thinks, somewhat in shock as he watches the left half of Eastern Command turn into a raging inferno.

"Damn," Breda whistles from besides him, staring as their offices burn.

"This sucks," Fury says faintly. Roy suppresses a snort. They're probably somewhat happy about this – Falman's "Sorry, sir, we couldn't save those reports we were filing" was far too smug.

"It's certainly going to cause a stir for Health and Safety," Riza mutters from beside him as the fire trucks fly past, sirens screaming.

Roy groans, already picturing the stacks of paperwork he's going to need done for this. He watches the firemen surveying the flames, yelling at the few individuals still fleeing the building to get back. He doesn't envy them this job.

"We're going to need a new office, at any rate," he sighs. "Of course the fire couldn't start on the right half, no, it just _had_ to take our side-"

"COLONEL!"

Roy starts at the desperate cry. Alphonse is rushing towards him, armor clanking and distressed. Too distressed.

"It's Ed," he gasps. "Ed's still - Ed's still in there!"

Roy's heart stops.

_Ed._

It restarts.

He reaches into his pockets, feeling his gloves, and meets Riza's gaze. Her eyes widen, and he can see the insistent _don't _begin to form on her lips.

He shoots her a brief look of apology.

And then he's moving, before anyone has the chance to react, boots pounding on the asphalt as he runs towards the building. The fireman closest to him yells, and he can hear Riza's panicked yell from behind him, hands reaching at his back - and then he's enveloped by smoke, thick and acrid and _hot_.

"Fullmetal!" he screams, coughing into his arm as he stumbles into the first floor, the hall almost entirely hidden by the thick smoke.

"Ed!"

He's nowhere to be seen, damn it, where is that brat, where is he, _where is Ed where would he go_ - third floor, the third floor, his office, his desk and Ed's notes – and he's running towards the stairwell in seconds, stripping off his military coat as the temperature grows hotter. He halts briefly midway up the stairs, the stairwell cast in a red glow.

He can see the flames up ahead of him, daunting and deadly.

But he is deadly, too, he knows fire – he can get Ed and get out of this. He's sure of it, he thinks to himself, tugging on his ignition gloves. If the fire were any less violent, he would try to calm it, force it down, but it's reached a point too far for him to even hope to control now.

So in and out with _extreme speed _it is.

_Hungry, hungry, _the flames scream at him as he throws himself up the stairs, bearing heavily left to avoid falling debris. He reaches the top and turns sharply, mounting the second flight of stairs to the third level. He reaches the top and staggers back, throwing a defensive arm over his face at the blast of heat.

The floor is almost entirely consumed by fire. Ed is nowhere to be seen. Roy swears.

He's not dead. He can't be. The fire won't have killed him yet, he's too smart for that – Roy can still get him out. He may not be able to give him back his brother's body, or protect him from the world he's thrown him into, but he can still save the boy he's dragged into the military from a fiery death.

But the flames themselves are not death, he thinks, as he sprints down the hall, watching the wood of a desk snapping and sparking to flame. That's the tricky thing about fire – it sees the life in things, hungers to bring that life to light. It longs to bring bright, bursting color to the cold, motionless wood.

The beauty fades, of course, when you realize the flame is only consuming to sustain its own life.

If he is like the flame, as they say, he wonders what this says about him.

His thoughts dissolve in a burst of panic as half the ceiling comes down on him, chunks of flaming plaster and stone striking him and leaving what are sure to be impressive bruises. Roy chokes on the smoke, eyes stinging as he fights against the hopelessness threatening to overwhelm him.

He's so close, the office is right down the hall – or what used to be the hall, the walls are nothing but sheets of flame, now, the fire snapping and cracking, laughing at him as he struggles forward, and he remembers-

_Snap._

-the fireplace in the evening, his mother's mother voice and the flash of alchemy-

_Snap._

-the house on fire, his parents on fire, home in ashes-

_Snap._

-long days in dusty studies, delight on Riza's face as the colors play across it-

_Snap._

-delight turned to horror, hundreds of burnt corpses dead by his hand-

_Snap._

-burning, burning, always burning and taking from him-

_Snap – __**Snap.**_

He meets the fire with his own, pushing forward. He is like the flame, he can take as well.

And he is taking Ed.

He bursts into his office, coughing and gasping as he scans the room desperately, looking for a flash of gold on red – there.

"Fullmetal! _Ed!_"

Ed is slumped against the window, unmoving. Roy is at his side in an instant, fingers flying to the boy's neck as he takes in the bloody gash on his head, likely from the collapsing ceiling.

"C'mon, c'mon, Ed, _please-"_

There's a pulse beneath Roy's fingers, faint but clearly there, and Roy nearly breaks down in relief. He pulls Ed up, throwing him over his shoulders and staggering at the weight. He regains his footing quickly and moves forward, back into the hall.

A hall that has become a complete inferno in his absence. Roy feels his heart drop.

He spins desperately, eyes flicking wildly as he looks for an opening, anything, any space devoid of flames - nothing. There's nothing but roaring fire, ahead and behind.

Ed is a dead weight in his arms, his eyes are stinging and blurring, and if he stands still any longer the metaphorical burning in his lungs will be decidedly less metaphorical. They need to get out now, but there's no way, no opening, unless-

He tightens a fist, the ignition cloth firm beneath his hand. He knows fire. He is like the flame – burning with ambition and destroying, they are one and the same.

He takes a breath, gripping Ed closer.

And then he disregards everything Riza's ever told him not to do and runs.

To anyone else, running head first into a fire is probably rather terrifying. To Roy, it's morbidly invigorating. It's hot, painfully so, and breathing is almost completely out of the question, but it's also bright, brilliant shades of orange and gold swirling around him, licking at his skin as the flames roar in his ears. He clutches Ed close as he sprints, reaching out with all of his being to the burning elements that are at its core, and he coaxes, wills it back, away from Ed and away from him. It's an alchemy he knows better than his own skin, the understanding he has with the flames. They will not take his life, not today – someday, perhaps, but not now - and he feels them sliding past, kissing his skin with their heat but letting him out of their grasp.

Down the stairs, down more stairs, dodge the falling debris, move with the flames instead of against them - Ed is growing heavier and his chest is exploding in pain, but through his blurred vision he can see the gap of light through the door, ten feet away, five feet away, two more steps-

Roy bursts out of the building seconds before the first floor collapses, stumbling gracelessly to the ground as he and Ed roll uncontrollably away from the fire.

He lies here, staring sightlessly at the sky, and he can faintly hear panicked yelling through the pathetically awful wheezing sound someone's making.

It takes him a minute to realize it's him.

"Sir!"

The sky is blue, blue and flameless, and it's a very beautiful sight, actually-

"Colonel!"

Blue and cool, cold like ice, and snow, and other cold things he really, really wants right now-

"_Roy!"_

It's Riza's use of his name that finally pulls him out of his stupor, and he blinks in confusion at her worried face.

"Oh," he says, attempting a grin. "Hi. Sorry."

Riza looks as if she's about to smack him, but whatever she's planning on doing to his face is interrupted as he dissolves into harsh coughing.

"Fullmetal?" he manages to croak out between gasps as Riza eases him up.

"Safe," she says, a hint of a smile on her face. She nods to her left, and Roy turns to see Alphonse worriedly yelling at the now-conscious blond as a medic tries to restrain him.

Roy smirks. His insides are practically melting in relief.

He expresses this relief in the best way possible.

"Get yourself a little cooked, shrimp?"

The glare Ed sends him is almost as heated as the flames they just got out of. Almost.

"You absolute – bastard," Ed gasps out between coughs as the medic frantically yells at him to stop talking. "I oughtta – throw you back in there."

"Aw, and after I – _damn smoke _– dove into such peril to save you?"Roy shoots back as another medic approaches him. "So ungrateful."

Ed spits out an angry response somewhere between fighting the medic shoving him on a stretcher, but the expression on his face is clear.

_Thanks._

Roy nods at him.

_Of course._

He'd rush into that building again in a heartbeat, he thinks, to save Ed – not that he'd ever say so. Riza squeezes his hand briefly as she stands, leaving him with the medic as she mutters something about the press. Roy leans back as the medic examines him, praying he won't end up at the hospital (it's probably a vain hope).

Behind him, the building is still burning, but the flames are lessening as the firemen do their job. He stares at them, thinking back to flame-filled halls.

All flames, regardless of how powerful, go out eventually. The hungrier they get, the faster the burn out.

It's something to remember, he thinks.

He closes his eyes, conscious of the gloves still on his hands. It's a nice feeling, getting to use them for something other than killing. To use them to save life instead of take it.

Someday, he thinks, glancing back at the dying flames. Someday.


End file.
